


say you're sorry

by peachydeacon



Series: DL 25 Drabbles Bingo [13]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Angry Sex, Bratty Brian, Dom John Deacon, Dom/sub, Hand Jobs, Hot Space Era, M/M, Multi, Songwriting, Spanking, Sub Brian May, band arguments, cuddly roger, freddie is very patient bless him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26430556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachydeacon/pseuds/peachydeacon
Summary: brian is a brat to freddie while trying to tweak a song. john reminds him how to act.
Relationships: John Deacon/Brian May, John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Series: DL 25 Drabbles Bingo [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862449
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43
Collections: Dork Lovers Server Challenges





	say you're sorry

**Author's Note:**

> the writing keeps getting shittier... the time in which i publish these gets further between.... you know how it goes okay anyways my prompts were "songwriting" and "hate sex/angry sex" and i wrote something i've basically already written. hope u like it anyways tho

“so… you expect for us to  _ play  _ this. onstage _.  _ in front of  _ people?”  _ john quirks an eyebrow, staring at the page of lyrics in front of him.  **put out the fire** is in big bold letters at the top of the sheet, followed by some of the most shallow lyrics john thinks he’s ever seen. if brian is trying to make a point, he’s failing terribly. it’s loaded with phrases that contradict themselves and lyrics that scream ‘first draft’.

“do you have an issue?” brian huffs, seeming already defensive. john supposes that’s fair. he  _ did  _ just criticize the song fairly harshly, and, though it’s deserved, he would likely put his walls up too. well, he knows from experience from his own roster of songs that have been met with resistance from the rest of the band.

freddie seems to carefully consider his words, tilting his head and opening and closing his mouth as he examines the paper. “it’s… not your strongest lyricism,” he agrees eventually. internally, john cheers a little until freddie speaks up again. “ _ however,  _ i do think you have a promising start here. i think we should workshop it, is that okay?”

reluctantly, brian nods. he’d agree to pretty much anything freddie asks of him, but john knows he’s going to act stubborn and huff and puff until freddie agrees to let him keep it entirely the same. he exchanges a look with roger, rolling his eyes. the blonde smirks back at him knowingly.

“come sit, dear,” freddie says, taking brian’s elbow in his hand and leading him to the table in the corner of the room. john and roger settle on the couch, lazing around as they eavesdrop on the other two’s conversation. freddie is using the tone he’s reserved for bargaining with them, inside and outside of the studio. brian is arguing back with every word freddie says; predictable, but still endlessly irritating to overhear. freddie can barely seem to get two words out before brian fights back, defending his stupid song with everything he’s got. freddie is being  _ miraculously  _ patient, nodding along and humming thoughtfully as brian rants about how nobody appreciates his writing. the singer has developed a talent for playing along and acting as a listening ear for brian until he’s willing to cooperate. john guesses that sort of thing just sort of happens after a decade together. john himself, for example, has acquired an ability to finish any of his bandmates’ sentences before even  _ they _ know what they’re trying to say.

“god,” john huffs under his breath, quiet enough that only roger will hear him. “it’s like pulling teeth with him.”

roger hums in agreement, resting his head gently in john’s lap. john can’t see his eyes on account of the sunglasses he’s always wearing inside now, but he’s sure they’re drifting closed. from roger’s perspective, there’s rarely anything better to do than drum, fuck, or sleep, and given that the first two aren’t exactly options right now, he lets john stroke his hair until his breathing slows. john runs his fingers through roger’s blonde locks, still listening intently to the eldest two members’ conversation. brian is still refusing any suggestions for changes, no matter how much freddie tries to reason with him. it makes john’s blood boil, hearing brian whine like a child about how strong his song is and how it doesn’t need changes as freddie suggests the smallest of tweaks to the lyrics. frankly, if it weren’t for roger in his lap, peaceful and cute, snoring slightly, he would stand up and pull brian aside to whip him into shape.

actually, the more he thinks about, the more john likes that idea. he’s become quite good at reminding brian of his place when he acts like a brat. roger has tried his hand at it (no pun intended), but for some reason, brian takes roger’s punishments much differently than john’s. roger is gentle with brian, to a degree, in terms of physicality. it’s like he thinks brian will break if he fucks him too hard, let alone hits him. roger is far better with coming up for creative punishments for brian and freddie, whereas john is good with sharp words and strong hands and showing the subs their places right then, right there.

john decides he would rather wait and listen to how things go from here with freddie and brian’s conversation (unrelated to how soft and pretty roger looks asleep in his lap,  _ obviously). _ the back-and-forth continues for what seems like forever; freddie trying to reason with brian about the half-baked activism (although he phrases it more politely) while brian pushes back and says everything has a meaning. freddie has asked the meanings many times throughout the conversation, but each time brian brushes him off, telling him he won’t understand. in john’s opinion, freddie seems far more competent in this situation than brian does, so if anyone would understand, it would probably be the eldest, but he keeps his mouth shut for now. he wants to see how far brian is willing to go with this. he  _ knows  _ brian knows he’s watching, waiting, paying attention to when he’ll fuck up enough to push john over the edge. the guitarist is glancing at him every once in a while, and john quirks his eyebrow or shoots him a warning glance each time.

a particularly loud protest from brian is what both wakes roger and makes john’s temper boil over. the second the blonde lazily lifts his head out of the bassist’s lap, john is up, stomping towards brian and grabbing him by the arm. he lifts him out of his chair forcefully, mumbling through gritted teeth, “come with me.  _ now.” _

brian stammers out what sounds like the beginnings of a question, but john squeezes his arm tighter, effectively getting him to shut his mouth. 

“we’ll be back,” john tells freddie and roger. freddie, whose eyes are wide and unexpecting, nods once his brain seems to catch up with what’s going on. roger, on the other hand, seemingly now fully awake, shoots brian a wink. brian looks pleadingly back at his other dom, as if waiting for rescue, though he knows it won’t come.

“don’t go easy on him, john,” roger says instead. brian whimpers.

john pulls brian into the hallway, yanking the guitarist behind him as he navigates the corridors of the studio for the breakroom. he flings the door open, shoving brian inside and slamming the door behind them, not bothering to click the lock before he turns back around.

“john--” brian starts, but john holds a hand up, silencing the older man immediately.

“what the fuck do you think you were doing in there?” he seethes, backing brian across the room until he’s against the other wall.

“i was just defending my song,” brian reasons, but his voice is weak like he doesn’t quite believe it himself.

“yeah? you weren’t being a brat and fighting with freddie for no reason?”

“i--” brian stammers, but once again, john manages to shut him up with just a raise of his hand.

“you are fucking unbelievable sometimes. shut up and get in position against the wall. not another word unless it’s the safeword,” john commands, snapping his fingers when brian looks at him slightly dazed. “are you with me?”

brian nods, bending over and placing his palms flat on the wall. he spreads his legs a little, bracing himself for john’s next move. the bassist steps toward him, tucking his thumbs into brian’s waistband and pulling his trousers and underwear down. the older man gasps quietly, but john can tell he’s trying not to seem too affected. he slips an arm around brian’s slim waist, taking the guitarist’s cock in his hand. brian seemingly can’t help himself, bucking his hips forward into the touch like he’s been waiting for it all day, and he probably has, considering how much he’s been acting up.

“you’re hard already, angel,” john coos, voice smooth and warm like honey. it makes brian shiver as john strokes his cock slowly, just a few times, enough to get him from half hard to straining against his stomach. “let’s review the safeword system one more time before we start, yeah?”

brian nods, his curls bouncing. “it’s red to stop and yellow to slow down and green to go,” he recites.

john hums in satisfaction. “good boy, brian,” he praises, running a soothing hand down brian’s back. “i’m going to spank you now. can you tell me why you’re getting spanked?”

“because i was rude to freddie,” brian mumbles, sounding appropriately regretful. 

“when i’m done with you, i expect you to say you’re sorry to freddie. am i clear?”

brian nods again, whimpering softly. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t be sorry to me. think about what you’re going to say to freddie. how many spanks do you think are appropriate?” john asks, knowing full well he’ll just take whatever brian says and double it.

“um… ten?” the older man sounds hesitant, and john knows he doesn’t think he deserves that few either.

the bassist chuckles coolly. “ten? for the way you acted this morning? freddie was so kind, so forgiving,” john muses, an almost threatening edge to his voice, a quick change from just a moment ago when he was asking brian about the safeword. “and what did you do? you threw it back in his face and acted like a petulant child.” he pauses, allowing his words to sink in before adding, “tell me if it’s too much.”

brian braces himself for the first hit, his whole body tightening in anticipation. when john brings his hand down, it’s loud against his skin, and he whines. john doesn’t stop, though; instead, he simply brings his hand down again on the opposite cheek. it continues like that until they’ve nearly reached the end; john creating a steady rhythm and leaving scattered hits across the guitarist’s ass.

at fifteen, john pauses. “i want you to count the last five for me,” he murmurs, rubbing soft circles over brian’s sore ass. brian nods, gasping out a quiet ‘green’ before john can even ask his color.

john brings his hand to below brian’s ass and angles his hand upward before hitting brian right where his backside meets his thigh. brian’s hips jerk forward, and he lets out a strangled moan, trying diligently not to be too loud. the skin where john’s hand had been is red already and hot to the touch when he rubs his hand over it. brian’s always been especially sensitive there, and it’s john’s favorite place to hit him for that reason. he always makes the same desperate little choked moan every time john strikes him there, and john can never quite get enough of it.

“one,” brian gasps after a moment, as though he’s just remembered. 

john hums in satisfaction before he repeats the motion from the same angle on brian’s other cheek, hitting him right at the junction of his leg and his ass. brian lets out the same moan as before, tight and desperate and needy, and once again, john feels a little dizzy with how much he loves the sound. 

“number, brian,” john prompts when brian goes quiet, only letting out little gasps. 

“two,” brian whines. “sorry.”

john just shushes him, rubbing a soothing hand over brian’s skin again to calm him down. he leans down, places a gentle kiss on the guitarist’s shoulder and murmurs to him that he’s doing such a good job, he only has three more to go. then he straightens his back again, takes a step backwards, and brings his hand down on brian’s ass again. it’s right in a spot where he’s already hit him, and it makes brian’s back arch as he grunts. 

“shit. three,” he mutters, sounding strained and desperate as he nears the end of his punishment. john knows how impatient brian gets, and he doesn’t want to keep him waiting. he’s taken everything up to now so well.

the last two hits are in quick succession, one after the other in exactly the same spot. brian moans out the last two numbers before his knees wobble. john quickly wraps his arm around the guitarist’s waist, helping him to stand up straight again. he turns him around so they’re face to face again, brian’s back to the wall, and scans his face for any sign of distress. 

rather than seeming even the slightest bit distraught, brian simply looks blissed out; eyes half lidded, mouth open slightly as he pants, a pretty red flush scattered across his cheeks. a quick glance down shows how fucking hard he is, his cock flushed as red as his face. he’s leaking precome from his tip, smearing on the hem of his black shirt.

“what’s your color, sweet pea?” john murmurs, his voice soft as though he’s worried he’ll break brian. he’s fragile, especially now, when he’s dazed from his punishment and desperate to come.

“green,” brian hums, staring into space. “please, john?”

ordinarily john would tease him, ask him what he wants, maybe even deny him, but not today. not when his poor boy has taken his punishment so well, not when he’d promised to apologize, not when brian sort of seems like he’s going to come whether john touches him or not.

so instead, the bassist spits into the palm of his hand and wraps it around brian’s cock. brian’s length throbs in his hand, and he bucks his hips forward eagerly. john doesn’t spend any time teasing; he just starts up a steady, quick pace that has brian whining and moaning as he fucks his hips forward. he’s so eager for it, leaking all over john’s fist and squirming whenever the bassist thumbs over the head. john can’t get enough of it; how brian sounds and looks and acts when he gets like this. 

it doesn’t take long before brian is whimpering, “i’m gonna come, i-i…”

“go on, baby. come for me.”

brian shoots all over john’s fist and his own shirt, writhing in the younger man’s hold and moaning louder than john’s heard in a long time. it’s like music. brian makes the prettiest little sounds, he thinks, dutifully ignoring his own cock straining in his jeans.

it takes brian a moment to catch his breath, but as soon as he does, the ‘thank you’s and the ‘i’m sorry’s are spilling from his lips faster than he can catch them. john murmurs sweet reassurances and tells him how good he is until brian seems like he’s back on earth again.

“you were so good, bri,” john hums, placing a gentle kiss to the older man’s cheek. he can feel the blush on his face under his lips. “are you ready to say you’re sorry?”

brian nods, looking down at the rug. “i’m ready.”

“good boy. c’mon, now. let’s try to get you at least a little cleaned up.”

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you think! also, come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://peachydeacon.tumblr.com/) if you feel so inclined! i take requests and would love to have you


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